


Nightmare

by Xparrot



Category: GetBackers
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Cuddling and Snuggling, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-26
Updated: 2003-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/Xparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Midou Ban has bad dreams sometimes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

His grandmother hadn't called it karma, but then, she was Christian. According to that old witch it was retribution, divine punishment for opening the evil eye. Never mind that the jagan surely had to be God's creation as much as anything else; never mind the will with which it was used. It was evil, and its bearer must be reminded of this.

But maybe it was karma after all, simply a balancing of forces, that what he inflicted on others must eventually return to him. Or maybe it was psychological, that the depths he plumbed in others' subconsciouses twisted his own in incomprehensible ways; or nothing more than his own conscience, punishing him for that punishment. Or perhaps it was just another aspect of the curse that was his birthright.

The worst part was that he could never tell he was dreaming. Usually his experience with illusion was such that he could see through deception. Even Mugenjou hadn't been able to completely confuse his sense of reality, and he navigated his own dreams with the same surety that mastered the jagan's visions. But the nightmares were different.

He hadn't had one for months; the last time had been after the IL retrieval, and Ginji had been so wiped from everything he hadn't stirred. When Ban had finally gotten his nerves under control, he had sat on the stoop of the office building they had parked before and smoked one cigarette after another until the sun finally rose.

It had been Yamato, then. It was always Yamato, since that day. Not like he could ever forget that blood on his hands, mentor's blood, friend's blood, brother's blood, should have felt special, but instead it had been like anyone else's, slippery and hot, sickening coppery tang in his nose. He had felt the heart move against his fingers, a shifting, liquid mass, and Himiko had screamed.

It had to have been him. Yamato wouldn't have imposed that on anyone else, but he was cursed already, and he was strong enough, and there had been no choice. What's one more sin, to the damned?

Sometimes he thought he could still smell dried blood caked under his nails. And there was always more blood in the nightmares, more than a human heart ever could pump, drowning him, and Yamato would be shouting for him to stop, but he couldn't, never in time.

But it wasn't Yamato. Not this night.

The sign over the Honky Tonk blinked as he parked outside the cafe, florescents fluttering unsteadily before reestablishing themselves. The bell chimed when he pushed open the door. There were only a couple patrons, this late at night, and Natsumi waved at him cheerfully from the sink where she was doing the dishes. "Hello, mister!"

Behind the counter, Paul looked over his paper, then put it down with a rustle. "Can I get you something?" he asked, politely, but behind the impenetrable reflection of his glasses Ban was being studied as carefully as a scientist examines a new specimen.

"I'm just here to meet someone," Ban said.

At the other end of the cafe, Hevn rose. "Ban-kun," she said, "thanks for coming. I think you'll like this one, but it's a big mission. The client would prefer the insurance of two retrievers, and since he had already hired one...I'm sure you'll work together well, you're both some of the best in the business. This is—"

"We've met," the man sitting across from her said, and Amano Ginji stood up from the booth.

Only how could it be Ginji—green vest and yellow hair and brown eyes, that all was right, but why hadn't he been in the car with him? "Ginji?" Ban asked, uncertainly.

"Midou-san," Ginji said, and Ban didn't hear him—or rather, he did, but it took him several seconds to realize it was his name that had been pronounced.

Ginji had called him that, for all of two days out of Mugenjou, until Ban had snapped that if he were going to be that obsequious it might as well be Midou-sama, or at least Midou-sensei, since he had plenty to learn. After which Ginji hadn't called him by name at all, until that evening when Ban had been fast enough to snatch the last tuna sushi out of the bento they had shared, and Ginji had protested, "Ban-chan, so mean!"

And Ban, who had never been thus addressed, had been so irritated that he had, one, let the sushi slip from his chopsticks, where it was caught and devoured by Ginji before it could hit his plate; and two, completely forgotten to protest it. After which he had never been anything else.

"Oi, Ginji, what's..."

He had raised his fist to knuckle his partner out of whatever had him so strange and moody, but Ginji's hand came up to block his, with a crackle of energy. This wasn't Ginji, even with the hair falling in his eyes, because those eyes watching him were so hard, bright and focused and implacable.

"Raitei," Ban hissed, taking a step back and bracing himself. Why the hell had the idiot—

But Ginji shook his head. "No," he said. "Not now. I think I owe you for that, at least." He extended his hand, stiff as a puppet.

Ban stared at the offered hand as if its flesh were rotting. "What the hell...is this some kind of joke?"

"Maybe." Ginji's arm fell back to his side. "Hevn-san, I don't think this is going to work."

"But Gin-chan—Ban-kun's very good, and if you know him already—"

"I know him," Ginji said. "I don't think I can work with him. There was a time I thought I might, but..." He turned to Hevn, eyes squinting in a little, embarrassed smile. "Raitei fought him, see."

"You don't think he's strong enough?"

"I nearly kicked the lightning kid's ass!" Ban snarled. "Not good enough for you?"

Ginji's eyes opened wide, sincere. "No. You're a really good fighter. Really strong. Maybe the strongest."

"You'll be on the same side now," Hevn reminded them, "no need to fight, it'll be fine."

"That's not it." The yellow head shook once in a regretful negative. "I know, it's not professional, Hevn-san. But...I know him."

"Damn straight, you know me! So what the hell's the problem?"

Ginji's eyes meeting his were softer now, but it was like there was a screen behind them, so Ban could see nothing within but quiet brown. "It's not that you like to fight, exactly. It's how you fight...why you fight. In Mugenjou...the people who felt like you when they fought, they all were killers. They fought to destroy. It always frightened me, a little...I could destroy more than any of them, but I didn't _want_ to. Not like that. Not like you do."

"What?" _I smell the same kind of scent as me_, the Jackal had murmured, _a person who likes the scent of blood..._but... "No—that's not it. It's not like that!" _Ban-chan isn't like you!_

"Midou-san, I fought you. I know what I saw."

"You're wrong!"

"It's more than that. I've met Himiko-san." Sorrow in his tone, but anger, too. "She told me about you, about her brother and what you did."

"Dammit, she didn't understand, you know I wouldn't—"

"I believe you had a reason to do it," Ginji said, softly and surely, and for a moment he sounded so trusting Ban thought it had been a joke after all, some stupid prank someone had put him up to, because cruelty wasn't in Ginji's nature but he could be tricked. Except he went on, so coolly it burned, "They call you a snake, but I don't believe anyone could be so cold-blooded that they'd murder a friend without any reason at all."

He frowned. "But there are still things which can't be forgiven. I'm sorry, Hevn-san, I can't work with him."

"The hell?!" Ban's patience snapped like a rubber band, and he grabbed Ginji by the shoulders, swung him around to glare at him. "What happened to you?" Hard not to be a little scared, this had gone beyond games, this wasn't Ginji, it could be drugs, mind control, or else a different hoax, a mimic, in which case Ginji could be...

But this was Ginji's face, and those were Ginji's eyes, meeting his unnatural blue fearlessly as ever. Not Raitei's too intense regard, but Amano Ginji's will as Ban had seen only a handful of times, fierce and resolute, and untempered by affection, though there were so few people Ginji disliked.

"Ginji...why..."

He shook off Ban, who let him go without protest, not understanding. Ginji's slight frown was less threatened than bewildered.

"Gin-chan, are you sure?" Hevn was asking. "It's a big job..."

"It's all right, Hevn-san." Ginji's smile erased that grimace as if it had never been. "I've asked a couple others if they could help—oh, here they are!"

At the sound of the cafe bell, Ban began to turn, only to barely avoid being bowled over by Ginji, who bounced past him like a rubber ball, crying out, "Shido! Kadsu-chan!"

This had to be Ginji, no one else but Ginji could manage quite such unabashed joy. No longer facing confrontation, he had shed that serious demeanor like a too-heavy coat, and was throwing his arms around Kadsuki as if greeting a long lost brother, not an old friend he probably had seen a few days ago. The idiot, but Kadsuki was smiling back, even Shido's mouth was curving; it was almost impossible to help oneself, when you were blinded by that cheer.

And Ban could only watch, listening to Ginji's chatter, and felt like he was trying to warm his hands over a video of a fire, all the light and sound but no warmth.

He cleared his throat. "Oi, string ball. Monkey trainer."

They looked up, and Shido rumbled, "What's he doing here?"

"Ah, Hevn-san thought Midou-san might be good for this job, but I want you guys instead," Ginji said, so off-hand that it was undeniable. "Is that all right, Hevn-san?"

"I'll have to check with the client, but I imagine so," Hevn said. "Sorry to bring you out tonight, Ban-kun."

"So what is the job?" Kadsuki asked, looking past Ban to Hevn. Even the Beastmaster didn't so much as give him a second glance. He might as well have been a phantom, or just another table in the restaurant.

And that was unendurable. "Some job it must be, if a spool of thread can do it as well as a man. What are you doing here, monkey trainer? Shouldn't you just be sending a dog to fetch whatever you're supposed to get?"

Kadsuki's mild look was as expected, but Shido's was barely more annoyed, as if Ban really weren't enough of a presence to bother him. And Ginji didn't even glance at him. "What the hell is wrong with you guys? Why'd you rather work with these bastards, Ginji? You think they're better than me?"

Shido growled, deep in his throat like a big cat, but Ginji stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "No. Don't, Shido. You don't want to fight him." And that wasn't Ginji's usual placating tone, _let's all get along_, but something more meaningful, as if he actually were worried for Shido, as if he really thought Ban would...

"Ginji?"

Ginji looked at him, and Ban would almost rather he hadn't at all, because the flat incredulity in his face was even harder to take than being ignored. The smile Kadsuki and Shido's arrival had brought was gone. "Why do you keep calling me that? As if we were friends?"

"I..."

"If you try to hurt any of my friends, I won't forgive you." That promise was backed by Raitei's power, but the voice was Ginji's. "We're going now, Midou-san. I'm not going to work with you, so you don't need to come back here."

He couldn't move. The words came anyway. "What if I want to?"

Ginji shrugged. "Then you can, I guess. I'll try not to be here then."

"Why are you..." It seemed to Ban that he had entered a tunnel, a long deep darkness, and all he could see was the mouth, where Ginji stood in light, watching him, not heartless, because Ginji was never that, but his incomprehension was much worse. "I thought...we were..."

"Thought we were what?" Ginji cocked his head, not callously, just confused. "Friends? How could we be friends? Mugenjou was the demon's lair, but you're a devil's child. The demon snake; you think you can hide what you are?"

"No, damn you—that's not—that's not all I am!"

"I've seen you fight, I've looked you in the eyes. I know what you are." He advanced a step toward Ban, another, unafraid, not Raitei, but Amano Ginji, who passed judgment rarely, but absolutely, with all the just honesty of his being. "I know you. How could I trust a cursed serpent?"

"Shut up. Shut the hell up!"

No malice, but no mercy, either, only truth, and there was something dead in his eyes, just looking at Ban enough to kill his ever-present optimism. "Who would put their faith in someone who murdered a friend? Who would believe in someone who can make you see whatever they want? Who would depend on someone whose strength comes from their pride and their bloodlust? How could I ever be friends with someone like you?"

"_Shut up!_" He drew back his arm, calling on the power of the serpent stars to silence him—

Ginji only stood there, watching him, and the horror of what he been about to do choked him, brought him to his knees, cradling his arm with that spirit's deadly strength like a wounded thing. And Ginji turned, walked away, and Ban had no voice to call him back, and no reason to, except that the darkness was strangling him, like a serpent's coils around his throat...but really, that was no reason after all...

 

* * *

It wasn't his own dreams that woke Ginji. They had been peaceful things, this night, a random hodgepodge of memory and fantasy; he had been flying, and Makubex had asked him to visit the dolphins that lived in the clouds and get one of their moons. But before he could ask the king sky porpoise where they were kept, he was awake, and Ban beside him was...crying.

Silently, his breath even, his face still and rigid, but there were tears gliding down his cheeks from his closed eyelids, faint shimmering streaks in the streetlight.

It took Ginji a second or two to realize they weren't in the car. They had rented a motel room for the night, with the cash from their latest job, which for once had gone both easier and better than expected, but Ban hadn't been as pleased as Ginji would have thought. He had watched the sunset dourly, muttering something about the full moon, but then they had gone out to eat, and double servings of sukiyaki had cheered him up, enough that he was willing to splurge on a movie, a couple exciting animated features. Since they had actually paid for tickets they weren't kicked out before the show ended, a new and enjoyable experience, and afterwards they had stopped at a late night fair and tried out every ride.

By the time they found the motel it was well past one, and rather than argue over who got the bed they had simply both flopped down on it, and Ginji didn't recall anything beyond kicking off his shoes and dropping his head onto the pillow.

But he was awake now, and Ban was not. "Ban-chan," Ginji murmured urgently, and bumped Ban's shoulder. With a gasp those wild blue eyes snapped open, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"We're in a motel," Ginji reminded him, recalling his own disorientation. A bed was more comfortable, but there was something to be said for the familiarity of the car. "Are you all right?"

Ban didn't respond, his breaths coming in short sharp pants, his body still locked in the paralysis of the dream.

Ginji was used to nightmares, used to jerking up out of relived deaths of friends and battles he hadn't wanted to fight. Ban often woke with him, though sometimes he wouldn't do anything, just tell Ginji to go back to sleep. Sometimes he would talk to Ginji, about their day, or about their next job, or about the dream. Sometimes he would get out to smoke a cigarette, so Ginji could be alone, or he would let Ginji take a walk instead.

Ban always knew what to do, but Ginji didn't. It was late, and he was sleepy, and tears were drying on Ban's face, and the only thing he could think of was when he was little, so little he still cried himself to sleep, and sometimes awake again, and Teshimine would be there. So all he did was put his arms around Ban's stiff shoulders, pulled him close and rubbed his back. "It's okay, it was just a dream, it's okay."

Ban shivered a little, and then he dropped his head against Ginji's shoulder, let go a couple of breaths that weren't quite explosive enough to be sobs. When he spoke it was muffled by Ginji's shirt, and so soft he hardly used his voice at all. "I...I'm not who...I'm..."

He wasn't really awake, Ginji could tell, but he sounded so lost, brokenhearted. Ginji spoke clearly, lightly, in the dark room. "You're you," and he jostled him a little, to wake Ban up more. "You're Midou Ban-sama."

But Ban curled inward as if he were trying to hide, his hands clutching at Ginji's shirt, any harder and he would tear it off. "No..." he mumbled, "don't...don't want to be him...don't want to be him anymore..."

"Ban-chan," Ginji whispered, unhappily.

"...Ginji?"

"I'm here, Ban-chan, it's okay. You don't have to be anyone. You're just you. Just Ban-chan."

"That's..." Ban relaxed against him for a moment, head resting on his chest, and then, as if disturbed by the thump of Ginji's pulse, he sat up, blinking rapidly as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Ginji?"

"Shhh, Ban-chan, it's okay. You just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

At any other time Ban would have made fun of his maternal instincts, or poked him for soothing him like he was a little kid. Ban didn't like anyone to try to care for him, didn't want anyone to have to take such responsibility.

But it was late, and Ban was still half-asleep, and he didn't say anything, just sank back down into the circle of Ginji's arms, nestling in securely. Ginji thought he had dropped off, was halfway there himself when Ban spoke.

His voice was not his own, too young, too unsure. "I...I killed him."

He didn't have to say who. Ban had never told him that whole story, but enough. "He wanted you to," Ginji said. "You did it for him, Ban-chan."

"I didn't want to..."

"Of course you didn't," Ginji said, fiercely, not sleepy anymore. "You're not like that, Ban-chan. You can't be. Look, you said once, that Shido couldn't be an evil guy, because he was my friend. And you're my—my best friend, so you can't be bad at all. Anyone who doesn't think so doesn't know you. Not really."

From the softness of Ban's breathing he might be out, but Ginji wasn't really surprised to hear his name. "Ginji."

That, at last, sounded like Ban, definite and confident. But he didn't try to pull away, stayed relaxed in Ginji's embrace, and all he asked was, "Can you say it again?"

"Say what, Ban-chan?"

"Thanks," Ban muttered, instead of answering, and then he really was asleep.

After tonight he wouldn't mention this, if he recalled it at all. Ginji didn't know if he had actually been awake for any of it. It was probably just as well. Some nightmares you don't need to remember, and Ban didn't deserve any of them.

Come morning he would probably tease Ginji about getting a teddy bear, would scramble back to his side of the bed as soon as he realized where he was. Ban didn't want to need anything like that. Or maybe he was just scared to want it, scared it wouldn't be there. Scared he didn't deserve it even if it were, because too many people thought he didn't. Too many people who had met Midou Ban, but didn't really know him at all.

Ginji understood fear, enough that he didn't try to push those limits Ban pretended weren't there. He believed in his friend; Ban was strong, strong enough that eventually he would break through them himself. But for now it was enough that he was resting quietly, at peace, his head a warm weight on Ginji's ribs.

Ban protected him, all the time. It was one of the best things in the world, to be able to count on that. But it felt almost as great to be able to do something for him, even if it wasn't anything important. "You have good dreams," Ginji murmured. "I'm here."

In the morning none of this might as well have happened at all. But until then, Amano Ginji watched his partner, guarding his sleep, so that no more bad things might trouble him this night.


End file.
